The Alchemist is Lost
by PlanetOfTheWeepingWillow
Summary: Alfred and Kiku find themselves in what appears to be 1889 Western America, but this darling sweet village Alfred comes across when he is separated from Kiku is more than meets the eye, especially since it doesn't appear to be Earth at all. A sci-fi Ameripan with other couples.
1. Lost

_I claim no rights to Hetalia. Pairing: wait and see, there might be several. Ameripan guaranteed _

_Please enjoy and review! _

**Chapter 1: Lost **

**PART I – Darling**

In the driest part of the country, where the sand found its way into every little crack and water appeared to have a phobia of nearing, was a quaint little village. The village was named Darling, though there was in fact nothing Darling about it. The people shared their thoughts quietly with one another and had no liking for gossip.

Once, during a regular morning when all the regular people went about their regular business, something odd occurred. A strange man had come near their town, though he didn't give it two looks, they were shell-shocked that someone had even dared to even come close. He did not ride on a horse, but dragged his limbs as if they were iron weights and held his head down, his cloak covering his body well. The women of the town watched his ill air and their muscles seized, the men prepared to fight, and the children made up all sorts of stories about him. ("He's the Lone Ranger!" "Shut up, Billy! No way, he's a spacerman!"). The man, suddenly tumbling over his cloak and landing in a heap, fulfilled the women's fears as they rushed over to him. Some men shouted at them that he could be some sort of dangerous hooligan, but they paid no mind.

When they reached the cloaked figure, he stirred again, lifting his head. His face was covered by a bandana and his hat. Only his brilliantly blue eyes shun through, and they looked with such strain and pain that the women instantly grabbed him from all sides and dragged him towards the village. "You poor thing!" one called, a fairly plump, red-headed woman with a bell-like voice said to him, and he moaned.

Another woman, a thin blonde one with buck teeth nodded and gibbered madly. "Where'd'ya come from? I bet you're from the big city! Aren't ya? Whachya doin' out 'ere all on yer own?!" The man's response was a roll of his eyes. The first one commented on how light he was, a third one said he ought to eat, another one said he should stay (this, of course, erupted in a huge cheer from the children, "HERO MAN IS STAYING!?"). The stranger offered up another mumble, which was drowned out. He felt the holds on his hands releasing and he stood up, coughing and sputtering before regaining his ability to speak properly.

"Look," he had a jolly young voice, "I am not here to stay, I'm sorry for falling over so suddenly, I got real dizzy from the heat." He held up his hands, shaking his head vehemently as he said this. The villagers shook their heads and cried in outrage, and in the end, the man complied to stay just one night. He really was exhausted by the day, and perhaps a night to freshen his mind would fix everything right up…

So there he was sent to stay at an inn, a comfortable place with a mousy man for a manager. The manager, Mr. Dodson, with his graying whiskers and hair, stared at the money which was given to him by the stranger with such gratitude that he quite nearly fainted. "Thank you, sir!" he squeaked up in reply. The man tipped his hat, still refusing to remove any of his clothing and made for his room, key in hand. "O-oh, sir," Mr. Dodson called after him, "Melody—the red haired, fine woman—she has invited you to the pub down yonder." He pointed a scrawny finger to the left of the building. "Will you come? We haven't had visitors in so long."

The stranger put the invitation to great consideration, and he stood, with his eyes set in the direction appointed by the finger, pondering. A million thoughts seemed to have crossed his mind at a magnificent speed, and his fingers flexed beneath the leather gloves. His jaw moved and his eyes swerved upon Mr. Dodson, blue meeting grey briefly, and he looked away again. "Alright," he said slowly, about the time Mr. Dodson had made to call Melody, "I'll come. Give me some time to freshen up." He turned on his heel and crept up the creaky, brown stairs. Moaning under his boots, the stairs appeared to be as old as the entire village itself. The stranger entered his room, having to jam the key forcefully and lunge his shoulder against the door to open it. The inside was pleasant—two comfortable, velvet chairs, one grand bed, a fancy window looking down unto the not-so-busy street, a table, and a bathroom. The man, slipping off his cloak and placing his hat on a rack, turned to the bathroom.

It felt godly to have warm water trickle down his fingers once again, and to have a bed to sleep on was heaven, he was nearly certain it was a hallucination from the dryness, but it felt too real. Especially the nagging questions each villager asked over and over.

The pub was by far the busiest spot in all of Darling, packed with singing and laughing, the adults all gathered and ate while the children played in the children's area in a separate room. The man arrived like an omen, silencing the merriment. He still wore the bandana on his mouth, but the hat and cloak was gone. His honey-wheat colored hair was windswept and his body was well-built and covered by thick clothing, his hands had the tight leather gloves on still. If it wasn't for the jollity in his eyes, one would very well assume he was some mob-leader ready to pull out a pistol and shoot everyone down. He sat down next to Melody, whose frazzled hair was tamed then by a string. "Holloa," she said, patting his back heavily as he seated himself. "What's your name, Lone Ranger?"

He ordered for a meal first before turning to face Melody. "I'm Alfred, call me that, Melody is it?"

Melody nodded, taking a thick swig from her drink and setting it down with a _thunk_. "Yep! Tell me, what are you doing here?"

The man arrived with a plate of meat, bread, and butter. Alfred moved to lift the bandana, speaking as he did so, "I'm on my way to visit my sweetheart, well, that and do some other business." He pulled the red cloth off, revealing a million-dollar smile and a long scar from his cheek bone that ran all the way down to his chin. "Sorry about that scar, long story." He cut a hearty piece of meat and stuck it in his mouth, chewing slowly, his muscled jaw flexing with each movement. He paused in his chewing, glancing at Melody who was looking at the scar in wonder, and swallowed the bite. As Alfred scraped up another piece, Melody spoke up.

"As you can see, we don't get a lot of visitors around here." She waved her hand around, indicating the village as a whole, "Not that we want many, mind, but it can get lonely."

Alfred had finished his steak and moved onto the bread and butter. He prepped the knife with butter and smothering it across the bread, it smelled heavenly. Pushing it into his mouth, he was attacked by an arid loaf of bread and a creamy butter, a peculiar fusion, but hunger-quenching nonetheless. "Well, this is in the middle of nowhere, five miles east of no man's land and north of the 'forget-me' city." Alfred replied in play-mock.

Melody laughed sourly, "Don't go making jokes about someone's home, almost as bad as calling someone's mama a you-know-what." She nodded, satisfied with herself.

With a chuckle, Alfred turned to peer at the pub, it smelled of food and drinks, of hard-working men, and vaguely of mystery. He grasped at his cup and sipped the water, Alfred did, and did so with a calculating look.

"Why do you do everything like you're trying to find a sum of a real big number?" someone said, and it was not Melody's melodic voice, but a gruff and haggled one of a man. Alfred turned and faced a man with a mustache large enough to make bushes jealous, beady eyes that darted from Alfred to Melody in a suspicious way, and large fists for clobbering. "You workin' for the gover'men'?" he asked, "'cause that's my wife you be talkin' too, and if you get any ideas—" he flexed his forearms, "—Well, you won' be seein' daylight again."

"Oh! Lay off you big bully!" Melody howled at him, showing him her fist. "Did ya hear? Or were ya jus' eavesdroppin' like the fly you are?! If ya had heard properly, you would have heard that he has a sweetheart waitin' for him." She turned to Alfred and apologized for her husband's manor.

The man, who Alfred later came to know was called Alric, quieted and nodded. "Sorry, sir, I jus' really love mah wife, she's the sun and moon to me." At this Melody blushed viciously, and Alric grinned happily, "I hope you get to your sweetheart, so tell me, you married or you just in mad love?"

It was Alfred's turn to blush, "Well," he cleared his throat, "yes, married, a while back. But, duty calls and I had to be off. I'm heading back home now."

"Sir—why were you travelling without a horse then?" the buck-toothed woman asked, and Alfred raised an eyebrow at her. She sniffed, "sorry, my name is Amanda, nice to meet yah, Mr. Alfred." She held out a hand stiffly and he shook it.

"My horse was stolen, damn good horse she was too." Alfred responded, leaning upon his hand which was cocked upon the table. "Along with my fellow travelers, I haven't the smallest clue as to where they will be."

"Why don't you go and help 'em?" Melody took offense, thinking that Alfred had freely abandoned his troubled men to go to his most likely safe sweetheart.

"That's what I'm going to do." Alfred retorted dryly, "I just need another horse, and some help. I'd be no use in the state that I am going after them."

"State you're in?!" Alric exclaimed, "Look at ya! Yer 'ealthy."

"Not really," Alfred said, "My leg's been terribly broken, one of my men made me a cast so I can at least walk a little on it, and my Al—I mean—my weapons are useless." Alfred grinned awkwardly, aware of the many eyes probing him.

"What were ya about ter say?" Amanda piped up, followed by a chorus of agreement from the rest of the crowed, which Alfred painfully realized were listening in to the conversation.

"I was about to say Artillery, but then I realized that would have been a very poor choice of words." Alfred lied.

"Go to the doctor for your leg!" someone called forth, and another wave of yells pelted at Alfred. He didn't like such attention, which was a bit difficult in his case. When silence fell, some of the younger fellows crept closer to Alfred, "tell us of your sweetheart!" the swooned.

And that was something that Alfred truly enjoyed answering. "Mm, my sweetheart's got the most beautiful pale skin, hair as dark as the night, eyes deep and thoughtful, a voice like a song, and touches so soft… I love my sweetheart," he laughed, wiping his face, "love…" he repeated dimly.

"Well, go to the doctor and then get some bed rest, we can offer you a horse if you'd like." Melody said, helping him stand.

**Part II: Scars**

The doctor's office was a very respectable place run by a handsome man with an awful habit of biting his forefinger. "Sit down," he said in a deep, booming voice. "So you're leg is broken?"

Alfred sat down on the elevated platform and nodded, "yeah."

The man walked over briskly, ordering Alfred to lift his pant legs. Alfred did so, revealing a thin stick strapped to his bandaged leg. The doctor, Doctor Cornswell, examined it patiently. "Yes, yes, already healing well." He nodded, noticing the scar on Alfred's face. "Why don't you take off your gloves?"

Alfred was puzzled by such a strange request, but flatly refused. "No, I like them on. Why are you asking? I'm tired, I'm heading to sleep, you've been great, doctor." He slouched off the platform and headed towards the door.

"Hm, the weather sure is dry here on Genevieve," the Doctor said, looking towards the window, proving once again that he knew something about Alfred, more than he cared to admit.

"What?" Alfred stopped, the name oddly familiar…

"The weather sure is dry here, eh, Genevieve," the doctor repeated, looking past Alfred and towards a young nurse. She smiled and Alfred felt a sense of forbidding creep into his nerves as he passed the nurse. He stopped when something tugged off his glove. Turning, he noticed that the maid had one finger, with a very sharp nail, sticking out, with the glove limply laying on it. Alfred whirled around, reaching to grab it, but the nurse was quicker, grasping Alfred's wrist. She lifted it, examining the scars and circular markings that lined it. Alfred growled and, with an extremely vexed glare, snatched up his glove and shoved it back on. The doctor looked at Alfred evenly, "you really don't know where you are, do you?"

Taken aback, the blonde furrowed his eyebrows. "Of course, 1889, the old Western outback, Earth." He added in the last part as a jest, but the doctor shook his head, eyes widening at 'earth'. Alfred felt that this was some sort of practical joke, and feeling immensely offended, stormed off limply to the inn.

Lying in his bed, staring at the ceiling, he still fumed over such a swipe at his pride. He knew very well who he was and where he was.

He and Kiku, his sweetheart, had somehow ended up in the past by a little over a hundred years when something went haywire during an experiment. During that time, the scars on Alfred and Kiku's hands appeared, the noticed, as they swung around in a presumably time-vortex, that it burned snappishly when the two were near each other. They called it their means of finding one another did they get lost. When they landed, in the middle of nowhere, Alfred had fallen incorrectly and snapped his leg. Kiku, who was still near him, managed to get his hands on some ply wood and bundle up a make-shift cast. Of course, there were no horses or other travelers to begin with, but they came across an abandoned city in which Alfred and Kiku found good clothing. The rest of the story was foggy, as Alfred slowly fell asleep, thinking of Kiku not so far away…

_-PlanetoftheWeepingWillows_


	2. Not So Darling

**The Alchemist is Lost**

**Chapter 2: Not So Darling**

**_Warning: Just kidding, no warning. _**

Alfred woke with a jolt and a panting expression from some insane dream where right was left and up was down, and these cockatoos were screaming at him that the answer to it all lay in the heart of gold. The cockatoos later dissolved into small puddles that chirped some ugly tune that made no sense and flowed down a red river. Alfred watched this all in horror, and in the very distance, somewhere far off, he spotted all the people he had ever known talk amongst themselves in a glibber glob of language that sounded more like scarping honey off cloth than spoken word.

It did not help that Alfred saw a young girl in the corner of his room when he woke. She was staring evenly out the window, where the sun was already indicating that Alfred was lazy and it was time to get up. Down below, people bustled about and the village looked no more like a western-book fantasy land, but more like a twentieth-century town square. The girl, who wore her brown hair in two long braids that fell down to her hips, and upon a blue school-uniform, turned to look at Alfred. She cracked a smile, a hard and cold smile that did not reach her eyes. If Alfred had seen hatred before, it was nothing like what the girl wore in her eyes. "You're awake." She spoke mildly, as if clearly bored with the subject.

"Yeah, feels like I've slept for a whole century." He replied uneasily, standing up heavily and finding his leg in no better condition. He hunted for his hat, which was presently being suffocated by pillows on his couch. Alfred yawned, placing his billowing cloak on his shoulders, and tried very hard to keep the edging fear from his voice. "Err, so what are you doing here little miss?"

She patted her dress down, tugging on the apron and dusting off unseen dust. "Well," she said after a tense pause, "My parents, brother, and I are staying here for the week-end. Then, I found you in this room sleeping in my bed. I felt much like the bear from Goldilocks and so, I sat here and waited while my mummy and daddy go talk to the clerk to file a complaint."

"And your brother?" Alfred looked around his feet; he had somehow imagined a little boy hopping around and feared he had trodden on him.

"He is playing in the playground."

"Playground…?" Had it not been for the time-vortex and strange townsfolk, Alfred would have already lost his head at that. He distinctly recalled that there was no playground for miles about.

"Yes, have you hit your head?" the girl was clearly annoyed. Her mouth curled and her eyes narrowed, as if she were a school teacher teaching a particularly naughty student.

"I might as well have. I'm sorry for intruding," he continued slowly, "I'm leaving anyway, and I paid last night." He grabbed his satchel and strung it over his shoulder.

Checking twice round for all his belongings, he made for the door. With one last look at its handle (gold) he twisted it open and trotted down the hall, wary of the girl's eyes on his neck. He slouched down the stairs. On his way past the reception, he caught waft of an outraged couple, yelling at the manager, a strict man with severely brushed hair and mustache (nothing like the mousy man before) who kept repeating that they "perhaps had imagined a man for their own benefit of driving [him] mad."

Alfred stopped at the reception and sighed audibly, grabbing looks from the woman. Her eyes widened and she positively shrieked, "do you see?! There WAS a man in the room!"

The manager's frown deepened.

Alfred spoke thickly.

"I must have stumbled in by mistake, I was a visitor last night and possibly I was so drunk I got the wrong key."

They stared in heavy disbelief.

"Alright, I overslept! I should have left earlier this morning…." He started to leave, and, much to his amusement, "the ghost kept me up all night." Hiding his sniggers, he left with a light smacking of the door. The woman looked horrified and the man mildly amused.

The outside air was tangy and smelled oddly of lemons. He sniffed it in and looked round, trying to find at least one familiar face. He did, the buck-toothed Amanda girl was talking with Melody. Melody had her mass of untamable hair hidden behind a bandana and her plump body was corseted and dressed properly. Alfred limped to them, waving. Amanda eyeballed him.

"You know this man?" she asked Melody, who turned to Alfred.

Her face contorted into a similar expression the braided girl had. "Who're you? Why you wavin'? I bet ya he's a fellow lookin' for trouble that one…" Melody hissed at Amanda, who brought a hand to her mouth.

"I'm sorry…? Melody, hey, remember me?" Alfred returned with a wan smile, but his words were lost, all but 'Melody'.

"How'd you know my name?" she hissed, her face flushed red and redder by the moment. "Someone gave you that name as a practical joke? Was it ol' Cornswell? That man has lost his marbles, I say."

"Cornswell, the doctor you mean?" He asked, smiling toothily, trying to hide his helpless confusion.

The two women burst into howling laughter that was completely unflattering. "Doctor?" Amanda wheezed out, "the old coot is as a doctor as I'll ever be!"

Alfred, unnerved by the comments, walked away, his cloak billowing behind him. His thoughts drifted by in a messy stream, not connecting anywhere and slurring together, causing Alfred a headache for the ages.

Then, his hand burned. He clutched it in a fist and raised it forward, nearly doubling over from the pain. A circular mark was engraved on his palm, and hope flooded into him so that he nearly choked with it. It meant Kiku was not far off.

Lunging forward, and following until the pain intensified greater and greater, he was led to a small shop. The shop sold various clothing items and repairs, it was a sewing shop. He swung the door open and peered inside. He spotted Kiku being cooed over by a dozen girls, all different sizes (the youngest being 12). Even the elderly ladies who worked in the corner muttered words of 'O, a darling one, isn't he?'

Kiku caught Alfred's eye and broke through the ring of girls. He peered into Alfred's face for a moment and lifted the hat. Alfred had the sudden fear at Kiku couldn't remember him either, but when Kiku laid eyes on the fist (which started to bleed) he grabbed Alfred's arm and kissed his nose. The pain in his palm stopped.

"You will never believe what happened." Kiku said breathlessly.


End file.
